Petricor and Applewood
by Naya Zephronic
Summary: A collection of moments between the former Crow Assassin and his Female Dalish Elf Warden. Told from Zevran's eyes. Rated M because Zevran is a public menace.
1. Chapter 1

Things that wake me up at 4am and won't let me go back to sleep.

I cannot decide if I want to upload this as one massive document, or break it up into the little snippets that make it up. I've decided to post one or two of these and see what others say. Your opinion is most appreciated.

* * *

"Ugh, what..?" Zevran groaned, blinking his eyes against the blinding sunlight. "I... Oh... rather thought I'd wake up dead... or not wake up at all as the case might be." He was greeted by an unusual sight, the fact that he was being stared out by three pairs of unhappy eyes (and one pair belonging to an overly happy mabari) was not it. One set, wide and expressive as was customary of his kind, had quickly turned from annoyance to curiosity. She was Dalish, from the faded markings on her forehead and she tilted her head and blinked beautifully emerald colored eyes. She wanted answers, saying as much and he openly told the answer to any question she asked.

The conversation drifted off topic only for a moment when she asked what an Antivan crow was. Behind them both a redheaded girl he knew before she even spoke was from Orlias, cut in before he could respond himself. "I can tell you that. They're an order of assassins out of Antiva, very powerful and renowned for always getting the job done, so to speak. Someone went to great expense to hire this man."

As he babbled his mind was hard at work, and he managed to earn a smile from the warden he was intended to kill with a line about being an optimist. This hadn't gone as he had hoped; the Warden was supposed to kill him and yet now that he'd brushed death Zevran realized it wasn't what he wanted. But, if she and this ragtag group could so easily best an Antivan Crow, maybe there was hope for him yet. When the questions were done he told her as much. She already spared him once; she may be willing to do it again.

By the Maker, she was.

"What?! You're taking the assassin now? Is that really a good idea?" The human gasped his lip twitching as he crossed his arms over his chest armor.

"Alistair," she replied rolling her lovely green eye in his direction. Her voice had a peculiar inflection that he had not heard before. At least, not in the Dalish he had traveled with so long ago. "You know I can't leave him to die, and you know it can kill him now."

"Don't see why not." He grumbled.

"For the same reasons I let those thieves on the bridge go, or why I let the soldiers who attacked us live. Creators..." She muttered rubbing the bridge between her eyes, "For the same reason why I couldn't leave Sten in that cage to be mauled by darkspawn. Do I really need a better reason not to let him be murdered by another assassin?"

"Alright..." He muttered with a sigh. "I see your point. Still... if there was a sign we were desperate, it just knocked on the door and said hello."

"Welcome Zevran," The Orlias Girl greeted, "Having an Antivan Crow along sounds like a fine plan." That is, until he hit on her.

The Dalish Gray Warden cut the binds around his hands and helped into his feet. He pledged his oath of loyalty to her and quietly hoped that the Crows would simply think him dead.


	2. Chapter 2

She kept him near probably from a mindset of keeping one's enemies close than for any real desire of his company. She rarely smiled, and he realized how strange it had been that he had seen such a thing grace her face so soon after they had met. He took up bantering with any of the group that came along even going as far as chatting up the dog; every once in a while he'd hear a small laugh or a giggle from their quiet leader who walked so far in front of them.

He was intrigued and wanted to know more about the strange Dalish woman who had given him a second chance at life, but it seemed that whenever he wished to speak about her she would always somehow turn the conversation back onto him. Others knew so little of her as well. The Witch would not speak to him, the Qunari was intimidating even by his standards, Alistair wanted little to do with him, and so the only ones left him were Leliana and Wynne for any hint on the Warden. Of course their only advice was to speak with her and that led him back to his original predicament.

So he talked and once in a while she would offer snippets of herself. She didn't seem to mind that he had been, and still was an assassin and had strange morals when it came to killing, enjoyed it in fact. She never seemed to mind that his every other statement was an innuendo or a flirtatious remark. She took it all and more in stride. She was kind; far kinder then anyone had a right to be, especially someone growing up as a Dalish. She genuinely cared about what he thought, and got more than she bargained for when she asked what he fancied. She blushed pink when he responded that he fancied her, but didn't rebuke his flirtations.

Like him she'd never known her mother and she smiled brightly when he spoke of the Dalish gloves that he had once owned. She held her hands out before her studying her own gloves as if she'd never seen them before. "They are beautiful, aren't they?" She mused, her eyes cast over her own hands she did not see that he only looked at her when he replied.

"Yes, they are."


	3. Chapter 3

This was far harder on her than any of the others seem to realize. Maybe because for a time he had lived with the Dalish, he could see it easier; she dreaded entering a city or even a small town. The elves of the wild were not for the cramp cities of men. He was a city elf himself so bothered him little, but he could see how uncomfortable the sight and smell and sound of even a little town such as Redcliffe made her.

They had offered to help save the town, well, she had offered and they followed along. She had even convinced the stubborn dwarf Dwyn to aid in the city's defense. It was the first time he had ever seen her silver tongue at work, both on the dwarf and on the Chantry mother, and he realized how little of a choice Alistair had in accepting his presence in the group. He chuckled at the thought, and hope she would never find reason to persuade him in the same way.

Now they waited for night to fall and he wondered where their Warden leader had wandered off to.

This is where he saw the first real truth of her. As far from the town as she could get without actually leaving it, up on a wooden walkway, she sat with one leg dangling off the edge her arms wrapped around the need of the other her head resting in the tangle of arms. He sat next to her, following her gaze out towards the massive lake called Calenhad. They sat in silence for a long time; if he talked it would only end up being about him again. "I wonder where my clan is," she whispered so softly he almost thought he didn't hear it. "They said they would flee to north, maybe they have left Ferelden altogether."

"You miss them..." He responded, feeling guilty even as he felt elated that she opened up to him even a little.

"I've never known anything other than my Clan. I'm sc- ...I miss them. I miss them all. Fenarel... Hahren Paivel with his stories, Maren and the Halla... Ashalle... I even miss Marrill and her babbling." She tried to discreetly wipe a tear from her eye so he politely looked away. "Everyone thinks I know I what I'm doing..." She sighed, shaking her head in disagreement. "And now I fight a battle to save the home of these shem- these humans because I know what it's like to have no home." He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn't find the words. For once Zevran was at a loss and the moment passed.

"Tell me a little about Antiva?" He had to oblige. His words took her away from the fear and loneliness she felt being separated from the only life she knew, from this life that has been forced upon her and the task of making life changing decisions for a people she didn't even understand. If this was the way for him to repay the life debt that he owed her it wouldn't be the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.


	4. Chapter 4

"I've a question, if I may?" A flicker of the smile crossed her face, and he couldn't help but feel gratified. He had overheard her speaking with Leliana; she enjoyed the sound of his voice. Or his accent, the difference was little in his eyes. In fact it more than encouraged him to chatter endlessly, to anyone, anything about nothing, just knowing she found a small joy hearing him speak.

"Go ahead." The fire of the camp burned low before her, and most of the group had already taken the rest. She had been lucky enough to draw first watch and she sat ideally poking a stick into the dying flames. It was why he chose not to speak with her least someone else over heard the conversation. Not that he cared what anyone else thought, but it seemed easier for her to speak when others weren't around.

"Well here's the thing: I swore an oath to serve you, yes? And I understand the quest you're on and this is all very fine and well." He spoke quickly, maybe too much so. He saw confusion wash across her face as he spoke. "My question pertains to what you intend to do with me once this business is over with… as point of curiosity."

"You could go, if you wanted." The look on her face, it was like he kicked a puppy. Something about the Dalish elves; they all had the look and voiced down. There was more to his reason of asking of course. He couldn't help but notice that she had been taking to calling the others Lethallin and Lethallan about the same time Sten began to calling her Kadan. But no such honorific had been bestowed upon him and Zevran couldn't help but feel he didn't stand in the same light as her other companions. Now he knew that wasn't the case, and felt a slight twinge of what some might call shame for having approach the subject.

"Could I?" He mused, touching his fingers to his chin, his mind already working out a plan to rectifying the situation. "And what if I didn't wish to leave?"

She brightened almost instantly, but the action was subdued as she carefully considered her next words while trying not to bite her lip in indecision. "I could always use a friend." She mumbled, for all her powers of persuasion when she didn't wish to force an issue, her words came soft and fleeting. She didn't want those close to her to say because her gilded tongue had convinced them to do so.

"Indeed? Humm. I might even be glad to call myself such, come to think of it." She was beautiful when she smiled and he found himself endeavoring to see that glow as often as he could. "It's good to know what my options might be. But that is for another time, yes?" she shrugged her shoulders, standing to retrieve some firewood from the large pile the group had collected. The camp fire burning once again she took her seat next to Zevran and the fact that she was still smiling did not go unnoticed by the former crow.

They stayed quiet for a long moment as had become their custom. He waited for her question, because he knew she would ask in her own time. "Tell me about your adventures." Zevran laughed at her wording, jiving at her that she made him sound like an old man. He told her of course; he couldn't let down his captive audience.

* * *

_Some times my diction software doesn't understand what I'm trying to say, sometimes I don't understand why it heard what it did, sometimes neither of us know whats going on._


	5. Chapter 5

"Gloves? You're giving me gloves? What for?"

Sitting in the middle of the Dalish camp as they were two other elves gave them curious stares before returning their attention elsewhere. There it was again; the look as if he'd kicked a puppy. He only realized the truth of it the moment before the words left her lips. "They are Dalish gloves... Like your mother's."

"I... Maker's breath, you're right." He breathed, flipping the gloves over a few times to inspect them better. "It is like my mother's. The leather was less thick, and it had more embroidery... but these are very close. And quite handsome." He slipped the gloves on, the rabbit fur softer then he remembered and warm against the cold that seemed to cling to Ferelden year long.

"You're welcome." She replied, nearly beaming. Without much thought he reached out and pulled her into his arms earning himself a surprise squeak from the warden. After moment he lettered go and they both shuffled nervously.

"I'm surprised you remembered," he added hastily. "No one has simply... given me a gift before. Thank you."

"Mahariel!" She would've said more, she was about to, but the call had stolen her attention.

"Some of the other hunters are going out now that the werewolves are gone. They would like to know if you want to join them. Creators know it's not much of a hunt with those shemlen you travel with."

"Don't call them that." She had become quite fond of the humans, and one Qunari, that accompanied her and wouldn't tolerate disrespect towards them from anyone, even her own kind.

The hunter crossed an arm over his chest, his palm over his heart in apology. "The offer still stands."

Her gaze swept around the camp searching for a sign of any of their other companions, chewing on her lip in contemplation. "Go," Zevran bade returning to his spot by the camp's fire, shooing her off in the direction of the hunters with one hand. "I will tell the others where you've gone when they return." The look of pure delight on her face was more than he could hope for, he had never seen her so happy. In an instant she had snatched up _The Fox's Bow_ that she was so fond of and raced off.


	6. Chapter 6

"Will you tell me about another adventure?" It was late or early as the case might be. He had come to relieve her of her post, but it seemed she wasn't ready for rest just yet.

"Well, the only one that's really worth telling is the story of the mission right before I came to Ferelden." He replied before his half asleep mind could catch up to the thought. No, this when he wasn't ready to talk about yet. It was a pain too fresh, a wound still open. He realized too late that he shouldn't have brought it up. "But... no, I... I would rather not. I shouldn't have said anything."

She paused for a moment, thinking before giving him a slow nod. "_Ma nuvenin_, Zevran. I understand."

He gave her a curious look, the elven words as foreign to him as Antivan was to her. "As you wish." She translated with a soft smile.

"Ah... Thank you. Perhaps another day, hm?" He offered knowing that she was disappointed, even if she didn't speak it.

She'd taken her gloves off, and he couldn't help but notice the scars on her arm that looks suspiciously like teeth or claws on her alabaster skin. "Where did you get that?" He asked, pointing.

She stared at it for a long moment as if she herself had forgotten. A flicker of a smile crossed her face when the memory came, but all she replied with was; "An angry bagger."

"And..?" he begged her on, "how does one come close enough to an angry bagger to get bit on the arm?"

"I was picking apples."

"Apples?" He interrupted, puzzled.

"I love apples." She replied, the pride in the statement clearly evident.

Zevran shook his head. "Apparently so do angry baggers."

The warden laughed, covering her mouth quickly for fear of waking the others. "Okay, okay. So, I was picking apples from a tree that decided the best place to grow was over a gully-"

"A gully?" He stopped her, not understanding the word. His mastery of the common tongue was near perfect, but some words never come up in pleasant conversation, well, not usually anyway.

"Is smaller than a ravine. And-"

"A ravine?" It must be a back woods, wild-elf sort of diction.

"Are you going to let me tell this story?" He chuckled raising his hands in surrender.

"So I was trying to grab the last few apples of the branches that hung from _a small hillside_ when Tamlen came out of nowhere and spooked me. I jumped, the branch bent and broke, I rolled down the hill, luckily didn't I break anything, and unluckily I rolled into a mother bagger's nest. She got me three times," she touched the scar on her arm that was clearly visible, a spot on her ribcage that was just covered by her armor and a spot on her thigh. "And Tamlen put two arrows in her backside before she backed off and he could pull me out."

"So much trouble for just a few apples." He responded giving her an incredulous look.

"Ah, but these are the best of the best apples. I can't even describe to you how delicious these apples are, you just have to taste one for yourself."

"Well, if you ever bring me one of these 'best of best apples' I would be happy to try it." She beamed.


	7. Chapter 7

It was the first long rain he had seen since coming to Ferelden. In Antiva it rained on a near constant basis, but here, so far south it felt like standing under a torrent from an icy waterfall. Zevran's tent was warm and dry and there would be no traveling that morning, he even felt the tiniest bit sorry for the poor sod that had watch in the middle of this storm. He ran through the list in his head; after himself it had been Alistair and then...

He pulled the flap of his tent gently aside. The fire had long gone out from the long night and the rain but the Warden didn't seem to mind as she stood in the early morning dawn. Her arms where outstretched by her side, her head tilted upwards as the rain soaked her to the bone. He was surprised when he realized that her hair was much longer he thought. It was a funny thing to focus on considering she was stripped from her armor, not that it covered much anyway, wearing only the top that showed off her smooth stomach and the trousers that left her long legs bare that belonged underneath the deer-skin leathers she normally wore. Soaking wet as she was her dark brown hair looked black and with her head tilted back it clung to the back of her thighs. Normally, she kept it in a braid that was then tide into a bun. He'd never guess it was so long and he sat there entranced as she stood in the rain until the storm finally gave one last angry how before sputtering out.

Finally she seemed to take notice of her observer, and rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. He beckoned her inside his tent and was surprised by how much trust should put in him by willingly coming. He wondered what it was that made her trust him so easily; he had been hired to kill her after all. Maybe she was just a trusting person; she'd certainly proven that more times than he could count. Zevran didn't know the answer whatever the reason.

"That was a rather foolish thing to be doing." He muttered wrapping a spare towel around her small frame. She stood there dripping wet and innocent looking, but obviously content with herself as she held the towel across his shoulders. He'd seen innocent before, on whores who tried to act the part; they had nothing on the real thing, on her.

"Tamlen used to say the same thing."

"Who is..?" Zevran tried to ask, but the hurt look on her face cut the question short on his lips and he realized what kind of wound she had and that it was far too soon to talk about it. The fact that she'd shared her pervious story with him was not lost on him.

"Oh... I..." Ashamed, she looked away. "I shouldn't have said anything..." he placed a hand on her chin and coaxed her into looking at him once again.

"I understand. Perhaps... another day?" She smiled sadly, not missing their reversed roles, and nodded. She was beginning to shiver and her skin was paler than norm. He pulled her close wrapping his arms around her waist and guided her down gently so they sat on the floor. He could already feel the rain water seeping into his own clothing, but said nothing.

"Can you smell it?" She asked, not content for once with the silence between them and shifted so the air from the open tent would cross her face.

"What do you mean?"

"_Petrichor_; the smell after the first rain." It always rained in Antiva, so there was never a 'first rain.' If there was a smell there it was too faint to notice, but here the smell was strong, stronger still on her skin and in her hair.

Zevran breathed it in.

* * *

_I miss the smell, myself._


	8. Chapter 8

Several days from Brecilian Forest, they traveled towards the Frostback Mountains and a small village called Haven. Wynne had long since tired of his commentary and while Alistair was easy prey he tended to let small pricks sink too deeply. So, Zevran attempted to garner the Warden's attention. Simply put, he stared at her as she walked. Although she cast her eyes back towards them on a regular basis to make sure her group remained close, knowing all this walking and hiking was far easier for her than for them, at first she didn't notice. It wasn't until Wynne and Alistair, fed up with this new game, made it a point to walk past her and leave the two alone.

"What?" She asked, glancing around her person thinking she might have something stuck to her. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Because I can." This made her turn that sweet shade of pink.

"Do you stare at everyone like that?" Her voice had turned to the meek shyness it acquired when she was out of her element and not trying to fool others into thinking she knew what she was doing.

"Not everyone." He replied, slowing his pace so that they would put further distance between themselves and the other two. "But a beautiful woman like yourself? Why not? I am sure you are a woman who draws many stares, from woman and other man alike. Does this bother you?"

"Not really, no." She mumbled softly after a moment's pause.

"But you would prefer I desisted, perhaps? It would be difficult, traveling as we do in close proximity, but I am nothing if not a gentleman. "

"No..."She looked away, it was too hard for her to look him in the eyes and say it. "I li... I don't mind."

"Oh? Now this is intriguing. I shall have to redouble my efforts immediately." He drifted closer to her, nearly whispering in her ear. "There was a young elven dancer in Antiva City once, and I believe I actually managed to stare off all seven of her skirts. It's a trick worth retrying." This little detail turned her face and ears a brilliant shade of crimson and she scurried off to meet the other two ahead of them. Still he couldn't help but notice that whenever she turned back to check on him her cheeks would color with a flash pink.

Of course, it probably didn't help that he was still staring.


	9. Chapter 9

"Tamlen was one of your tribe; a blood-brother. You left him in the ruins, left him to his fate. Tell me pilgrim, did you fail Tamlen?"

"Yes..." The Warden choked. "I could have tried harder to stop him... Could have pulled him away from the mirror." She was crying now or maybe she had begun the moment the spirits spoke that name. Fat droplets fell from her now bloodshot eyes she did not bother to conceal; there would have been no point. Zevran was angered by the spirit's inane questioning. How dare he dig at old wounds that had not had the chance to heal. She'd been so careful to put it behind her, working through it in her own time, even if they never spoke of what she was trying to hide; he had known it had hurt her a great deal. And this spirit had undone any healing all in an instant.

The spirit questioned each of them in turn, Zevran balked when its gaze finally fell on him. "Is it my turn? Hurrah. I'm so excited." And spirit even managed to shake him, picking at a scab that was not ready to come off. He fumbled with his answer feeling pinned in a corner, saw her gaze fall upon him and she wiped the last tears from her eyes. He was still not ready to tell that story.

The riddles came easy to her, faring far better with the challenge of words then the challenge of pasts. But the Gantlet would not let things go so easy and just when she was able to speak without a catch in her throat it laid her low once again.

"It's so cold here, sister. I can feel the chill in my bones." His voice was hollow and echoed ethereally against the stone.

"Tamlen is it really you?" She reached out a hand to the disembodied ghost. He obliged by reaching out his own hand her fingers passing through his palm like air. Zevran knew then for sure that this clansman of hers was not just a friend, and just why it was so hard for her to speak of him.

"You think 'This cannot be Tamlen, Tamlen is gone. He is only footsteps in the dust.' I am Tamlen and I am not. I am part of the gauntlet and part of you." He raised his hand up and she held hers as if it was resting against his palm. Their finger's laced together, and she tried hard not to begin crying once more.

"I wish I could have told Tamlen that I tried to find him." She whispered.

"Some things lost can never be found. Some mistakes never unmade. Those that survive must go on living. You have suffered enough thinking you could have done something. It is time to leave that behind." Tamlen's ghost began to fade but not before he gave her one last gift.

"I will try." She replied accepting the pendant he gave her.

All he knew of this strange clansman of the Warden had been given to him in the last hour or so, but he'd wished she had been able to tell him herself, and not had forcibly shoved in the light. It wasn't until after they fought duplicates of themselves and then reached a room with a puzzle in the walkway that he was able to speak with Alistair. "Did you know about this Tamlen?"

"Sort of, but all I know is what Duncan had told me. They were both infected with the blight during a hunt, and he was only able to find her. He had convinced her to give up the search in order to save her own life. After, she never really wanted to talk about it and then... "He sighed shaking his head. Zevran was not the only one worried about their companion it seemed. "Truth is I never asked and I should have. I haven't been a friend to her."

* * *

_Alistair always struck me as a bit selfish, forcing all the choices on the Warden. _


	10. Chapter 10

"Do you have another story to pass the time?" Zevran asked suddenly as they traveled back towards Redcliffe to deliver the ashes.

"So I'm telling all the stories now?" The Warden replied turning her beautiful emerald eyes toward him, they were still so sad; the trials of the gauntlet had not left her.

"I'm all out of interesting ones." She was about to ask about the one he didn't tell, but shook her head. He could see it in her face, if she wasn't ready to tell hers, then she didn't feel right asking him his and he quietly thanked her for that.

She touched a hand to her chin in thought. "Let's see... The first time I had one of those amazing apples?"

"You remember this?"

"It was rather memorable. When I was younger the clan would stop in an area that was close to an apple orchard tended to by a husband and wife. We used to love to play in the orchard climbing the trees and picking whatever apples we wanted. The man and wife where a friendly sort see, and as long as the Dalish agreed to pay for any losses he sustained by letting us play in his field, we could do as we wish, though we were warned not to take more than we could eat."

"It didn't last." He responded knowing that these stories never ended well.

"Unfortunately not. The man was not the owner of the orchard himself, they were only the tenant. He tended to it on behest of the arl of the area, or some such lording that I still fail to understand. Anyway, some less than kind neighbor told this man that his tenant was allowing Dalish to run amuck in his fields. It did not matter to the lord that he was receiving coin either way, just the thought of us on his property sent him into a rage and out of spite he burned down the orchard and the husband and wife's home along with it."

Zevran had to pick his words carefully; his first response was to condemn the farmers for their action, but he realized this would end the tale where it was. His ultimate goal was to keep her talking, so he finally he settled on asking; "Did they..?"

"No, no, we helped them escape; they traveled with us until we were well out of the Arl's lands. Most of the children had stashed a few apples away and we gave them back to the farmer out of remorse. He was able to start a new orchard somewhere to the west with them; at least that's what I was told." She paused for a long moment, staring at the ground as they walked. "The thing I remember most, when the orchard was burning down, the smell of the applewood on fire was amazing... The lord tried to ruin something good out of bigotry, even the orchard rebelled against him."

"I _have_ noticed that you tend to forgive humans rather quickly." He replied, remembering a few times when she was nearly about to put a blade in someone's throat for calling her a knife-ear or other such insult only to smile sweetly when they apologize, carrying on a conversation like it never happened. The humans never seemed to know what to make of it, but it kept them watching their words.

"I've seen the best and worst of humans, just as there is the best and worst of Dalish. I know that if I go the extra step to show them I understand, some of them can do the same."

Zevran could only shake his head at this. "My dear Warden, you are far too kind."

"Yes, I've been told. But it was my kindness that spared your life, so it isn't all for not." She smiled, winking at him.

Ah, he should have seen that one coming.

* * *

_I like to think they were honeycrisp apples._


	11. Chapter 11

_The only chapter rated M. _

* * *

He tsked, shaking his head as he sat next to her. The camp was mostly empty; the others had preferred to remain at the castle rather than sleeping on the hard ground. Of course, the Dalish Warden herself disliked those soft beds and the camp was left with the two of them. Morrigan remained as well; agreeing with her about the beds, but couldn't be any further away from the main camp if she tried, and the dog, who didn't care either way, kept watch, so in essence they were alone. "You look so tired my dear. It is all this constant walking and fighting. I think I know what you need."

"A horse?" She responded with a sly smile and he chuckled.

"A bit late for that, no? My thought is this: we retire to your tent and I show you the sort of massage skills one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse." He whispered, his arm snaking around her waist and his thumb rubbing gently on her hip bone.

"Zevran, I... Don't know about this..." She mumbled shyly, turning that pretty shade of pink he was growing very fond of.

"If you're worried about what might happen after. I can assure you, you won't be disappointed with any of the skills I've picked up..."

"Not-" She squeaked too loudly and covered her mouth, glancing around sheepishly even though she knew no one was with them that night. The crimson color on her cheeks spread all the way to her elegantly pointed ears. "Not that. You... you obviously know what you're doing and- And I- I..."

"_Braska_..." He mumbled realizing her meaning, his hand dropping from around her waist. "_Eres_ _atiya nagrano_... Had I known, my dear... All you have to do is say 'no'."

"Aty-atiya..?"

"Pure. Not to be spoiled. If you do not want this, just say so." She opened her mouth to speak, to say something; no, he was sure, but the words faded before they reached her lips. Mostly because her lips where too busying being pressed against his to bother with speaking. By the Maker; even her kiss was pure, innocent and unsure. Her eyes fluttered when he showed her what a kiss should be.

Her hands, so skilled with a dagger or the string of a bow, were out of place and he hushed her apology as he guided them gently rewarding her with a small sound of pleasure when she found something he liked. They drifted into her tent, her armor falling off easily under his skilled fingers, she had no such practice ease and he helped her with some of his own before lifting her off her feet and laying her down gently. Her skin was so soft under his calloused fingertips even if there was a scare here or there from a lifetime of living as a Dalish and even more recently from the fight with the darkspawn. The last of their armor was cast aside and the small cloths soon followed. Her hands were surprisingly soft as well as they shyly glided over the tattoo across his chest and he encouraged her with a groan against her skin as his lips and tongue worked across her chest. Her skin held a sweet taste he could not name and the more he tried to find a name for it, the more he had to taste her again.

His fingers soon found her heat, she gasped when he slipped inside, her back arching towards him, whimpering his name. Alone his skilled hand brought her to a peak. He kissed her neck trailing up to her sensitive ears and if the sounds she made were any judge she nearly peaked again as he licked and whispered into them. "This may hurt, my dear..." He warned gently, she could have easily broken it herself, he hadn't felt it there, but there was no way for Zevran to tell for sure. "We can still stop."

He should have done more to persuade her, he knew. She was still _atiya nagrano_, still pure, but she begged him so sweetly on and he did not deny her.

Later, they lay together her head resting on his chest her body pressed atop his. She was so slim and deceptively delicate he hardly noticed her weight at all. His hands idly worked her hair out of its bun and braid, preferring to see it down again. "I knew this would happen eventually." He mumbled to see if she was awake, she shifted to look at him. "I should have warned you right from the moment you refused to kill me. It was inevitable."

"You're practically a public menace." The warden replied propping herself up on her elbows so that she could see him and still lay on top of him with a half-smile. Her hair fell free around her shoulders in a wave.

"Tis True! They used to issue warnings about me at the Antivan border." They both laughed at that, but after a moment he returned to what he really intended to say. "So then. As the priestess so famously said to the handsome actor: what now?"

A question she didn't know the answer to, he knew watching the confusion wash across her face, but he had to ask anyway. "I... would ask you the same thing." She finally replied.

"Allow me to make it simple for you, my dear Grey Warden. What comes next is entirely up to you." She still seemed confused, so he went on. "I was raised to take my pleasures where they could be found, for they do not come very often. I shall ask nothing more of you than you are willing to give." Zevran was hiding behind these words, he knew, after all he had been the one to beg for her attention. He had been the one to ask her to her tent. Had he not perused, she would have not given in to him at all.

"That... Sounds fine." Of course, all men know when a woman says 'fine' she does not really mean it, but he took it at face and dropped the subject.

Instead Zevran sat up, gently sliding her off his chest and was met with a curious expression from those lovely green eyes. His customary cocky grin crossed his face. "I promised you a massage, did I not? I'm nothing if not a man of my word."

He'd heard of the stamina of Grey Wardens, sure, but to actually experience it was a rather _pleasant_ surprise.


	12. Chapter 12

Zevran had expected something to change in her. He'd taken her _atiya nagrano,_ her purity. Something had to change, at least that's what he had been led to believe. How could it not, especially when she had consorted with the likes of him, stained with more than just blood? It had never bothered him, what he was and what he'd done, until after that first night with her.

He waited to see a change, but from what he could tell it never came.

The warden was still too kind for her own good. She still blushed that beautiful shade of pink when she caught him staring at her and turned crimson to her ears if he whispered something dirty in them. In fact if there was any change it was only that she allowed their sordid nights to continue. The warden never asked him outright, she didn't have it in her to speak the words, but Zevran knew coy desire. A gentle touch, she'd be too embarrassed to speak, to look him in the eyes, hard as she would try, so he'd kiss her gently and suddenly find himself in her tent once again, much to the disapproval of the others. He wondered on one of those nights as she lay against him and he breathed in the scent of her hair if the change wasn't for her.

Finally, he just stopped trying to figure it out.

It was a quiet night and much to his own disdain the watches had once again aligned so that spending time in her tent was not an option. Zevran was sure this was a plot by the others; they all knew by now and they each had varying levels of displeasure for the idea. None of them had said anything as of yet, in fact their only action so far had been, in his opinion, to rig the watch draws.

The warden sat before the fire, staring deeply into the amulet given to her during the gauntlet. He hated seeing the unhappy expression that settled on her face whenever she stared into the silver medallion, and yet once in a while her face would soften and she'd smile like he'd never seen before. There was something he wanted to ask her, but he wasn't sure how sensitive the subject might be. Finally he threw caution to the wind and took a seat next to her, bringing her out of her contemplations. "You told me once that you never knew your mother."

"Yes, but I don't know many details; the story was only told to me just before I left my clan." She sighed, her gaze going from the amulet to the fire.

"It is not as if I heard my own tale first hand." He wanted her to look at him, to stop pondering the things that couldn't be changed. He gently placed an arm around her waist and was rewarded with a smile as she settled against the side of his chest. "I would still like to hear it, if you're willing to tell, of course."

"...My father was the Keeper of the Sabrae clan before Marethari. He fell in love with a huntress from another clan during an arlathvhen, but her clan her would not approve the match." She paused her brow knitting as she tried to remember exactly what was told to her.

"Do you know why?" He asked. He'd spent time in a Dalish clan, but the truth of it was his time had been short and those Dalish had been nothing like the ones he'd met here in Ferelden.

"Keepers don't usually bond. A First is usually gifted from one clan to another to promote relationships between them. A Keeper's child has a higher chance of developing magic and family ties would encourage a keeper to train their own child as a First rather than trade with another clan and that leads to blood lines and other human nonsense." The warden shrugged her shoulders, she didn't actually believe that, but that had been the explanation given to her. "The real point is that a Keeper's duty is to their clan as a whole not just their own children. Zatherian is a perfect example of a Keeper who put his children before the clan...

"Whatever the reason, her clan disapproved, so my mother and father would meet in secret. One night they were ambushed by a band of raiders. My father was killed in the fight and my mother barely survived, the Sabrae clan finding her in the dawn. She nearly killed herself in grief, and would have if she didn't learn she was with child. Even so, soon after I was born she wandered into the forest one night and never returned."

"Humans killed your parents and yet you are still kind to them?"

"Not just humans, so I' m told, elves made up the group as well." She shrugged again, unsure if this had been true or a lie to placate her potential anger. "I could choose to hate them, just like I could choose to hate my parents for leaving me behind. I could hate them all or I could choose not to."

Zevran took her hand in his, holding it tight. She could have easily chosen to hate and with good reason. She could have chosen to be as merciless as the raiders who took her parents away. Hate would have been far easier. Why she didn't was a blessing form the Maker himself, or maybe the Creators she prayed to, there was little else to explain it. Had she, he would not be sitting next to her; he would have not been given this second change. "I am very lucky." He said simply and that warm smile he only saw when she stared at the amulet was turned on him.

* * *

_The warden just keeps confusing him, doesn't she?_


	13. Chapter 13

"That is wily of you, Zevran." Morrigan stood before him, and Zevran was pointedly reminded that he was out here alone for his turn at watch.

"What is so wily of me, O magical temptress?" He asked, silently wondering why he had not been turned into a toad or other such vile thing yet. It was no secret that Morrigan did not hold him in very high regard, especially after he had used her to win a bet with Alistair.

"Getting in the good graces of the one who decides whether you live or die. Not to mention the one who can protect you against your former comrades." His eyes flickered for a moment to the warden's tent where he'd left her sleeping.

"And I'm supposed to believe you are here because of a ... Sense of patriotism, perhaps?"

"Ha! Hardly that." Morrigan balked, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned away.

"We all have their reasons for doing what we do. Mine happened to come with a set of lovely eyes." Her response was to roll her own eyes at him, but at least she didn't decide zapping him with lightning was a better option.

Just when he had thought he had fended off one overly protective mage, another came to call. Wynne stood before him now, looking particularly perturbed. "They are quite taken with each other, are they not?"

"I've already said my peace. You can deal with him if you like." The apostate replied heatedly, throwing her hands to the air before walking away. Zevran was actually surprised; Morrigan had just expressed worry over the Dalish warden, in her own strange way.

Luckily he knew just how to deal with the elder mage and grinned wily, as Morrigan put it, at her. "Wynne, you almost sound jealous. I can still get in contact with Salvail if you wish."

The mage gave an exasperated sigh, the knuckles on her hand that held her staff turning white from how tightly she gripped it. "As always you seem to only have one thing on your mind. I have to question the wisdom of a Grey Warden being involved in such an affair."

"This... seems like a topic better taken up with our dear warden in question." He replied, avoiding the topic completely and a possible fireball in his face.

"Believe me; I have tried, but..." Wynne sighed shaking her head. "She gives me this look, like I've kicked a puppy, and I can't continue." This he could only laugh helplessly at.


	14. Chapter 14

At first the dwarven society was something interesting and new for the warden, but she was shocked when they walked into the merchant's quarter just in time to see some unlucky dwarf receive an axe to the gut. Still, she had found their culture absolutely fascinating. That is until of all things they turned to a Dalish elf to help settle their throne.

Having only the basics of knowledge of Dwarves as a whole and even less on the contenders for the throne they wandered almost aimlessly until they found the home of the throne's usurper. Had he given it more thought before casting the Lord Harrowmont as a weak leader, he may have changed his stance. She was more than desperate for advice, even if it was his, maybe, admittedly hasty condemnation, and took it without question. They soon found themselves speaking with the prince Bhelen's lieutenant.

She had adopted the air of confidence and authority she had when other's expected her to know what to do so flawlessly during the entire ordeal that Zevran didn't realize something was wrong until they turned to leave. She suddenly swayed dangerously as she walked, her hand rising to clutch desperately at her chest. Her eyes had dilated to pinprick in outright panic.

"Cant. Breath." She whimpered begging for help from her companions. They quickly ushered her outside where the stone was less oppressive. "Cant..."

Zevran was comfortable in any environment, courtesy of his crow training, but for her who had always lived under the open sky, who never been so deep in a cave before, the fear of the walls crashing down and being trapped within was real and debilitating. Anyone else and he may have joked about this, but he found the thoughts to be bitter in his own mind and instead hushed her gently, trying to calm her down.

"Take a deep breath," She tried, but let go too fast and he felt her fall heavy against his chest. Zevran held his arms around her to keep her from falling to the ground completely. "Hold it and let it out slowly." He bid her again, and after a minute or so of that she was able to stand on her own again.

Wynne was watching him suspiciously, but he turned away pretending not to notice.

The task for the prince sent them into the deep roads and twice she had to stop and find her breath. Zevran could do little beside let her cling desperately to him and wait for it to pass. He could see that Ozammar was quickly making her absolutely miserable. They could not be done with this place soon enough; these caves where no place for a Dalish.


	15. Chapter 15

"You must have quite a history..." It was dark in the room lent to them by the dwarven prince, darker than any moonless night on the surface and quiet as death. The warden couldn't sleep he knew, even after he lay with her, tiring her out completely. "With women, I mean."

He frowned, unable to see her expression in the oppressiveness of the black. It was probably why she had chosen now to ask this, Zevran couldn't read her face and was forced to rely on her tone and that she could disguise with ease, even with him. "This could be a sensitive topic, my dear lady. Are you sure you wish to voyage there?"

"I know, but I'm asking anyway." She whispered softly, her voice louder in the silence than it should be her head resting on his arm as her delicate fingers played with the end of the braid in his hair.

"As you wish... Let me start by saying that my history is varied, indeed. It has also not been restricted to women. Does... that offend you?" It was a strange thought even in his head; he was a self-proclaimed master of pleasure, knowing exactly how to bring any woman or man to their peak. She however only ever had him, and was still intimidated by his experience, he realized, even now. She had quickly becoming braver, experimenting with what he liked, but any intimate expertise she had was reserved only with and for him. It was an empowering thought, to know she was his alone, and at the same time he felt confusion, but about what he couldn't say.

"Should it?" She responded taking her customary moment to consider. He dearly wished he could see her expression; she had accepted so much about him without question, but this could easily be the one thing she couldn't tolerate.

"Perhaps. That is entirely up to you." He shifted in the bed, pulling the sheets over the two of them; the stone sucked any warmth from the room, and rested his forehead gently against hers. "I grew up amongst whores, my dear. Sex is best when done well, and truly that is my only rule." His hand brushed against her ear, his fingers tangling in her hair. He'd convinced her to leave it down and the smell of petrichor still clung to her. He could taste the sweetness of her skin on his tongue even now; mild and the name taunted him from just out of reach. "Do I prefer women? Yes... yes, I believe I do, but you must understand that a certain open-mindedness is sought by the Crows in their recruits. For very good reasons."

"I think... I understand." No, he could tell that this didn't make much sense to her. She came from such a different culture; one that valued lifelong partnerships and the promise of future generations. She was always so kind, trying to take that extra step, in her own words, to understand something so radically different from what she'd been taught.

"This is a new path I am on, now. It would be interesting to see where it leads. ...Already it has been many new things." He sighed trying to assure her as at the same time he wondered why he was so worried about her answers. It shouldn't matter, what she thought. Pleasures came few and far between. Take them when you can, this was the mantra he'd been taught and at the same time… Was it fear? That she'd reject him over this? He threw the thought away. If she couldn't accept it, fine, it was nice while it lasted. The feeling however, tight in his chest, remained. "I cannot change my past, obviously. I regret far more than the men and women I have been with, and if that is more than you can bear... well, then it is good we know now, yes?"

"It doesn't bother me, Zevran." Her tone was resolute and the feeling that had clenched at him, despite his attempts to forget about it, ebbed away on its own. He didn't question it; this time he chose to just believe her. Maker, what had he done to meet someone like her? Maybe he really had died that day, of course Zevran never believed he'd be _rewarded_ for all the stains on his soul. It was only that thought that convinced him he wasn't hallucinating the entire thing. He buried the trail of thoughts. This would end eventually, it always did and he was better off not getting attached.

His lips found hers, her hands roamed him and it was much later, but his warden finally found rest in his arms.


	16. Chapter 16

Zevran didn't know what he expected when Hespith's disembodied voice breathed the word, "Broodmother." and they turned the corner into the chamber, but what he saw had not been it. The fight had been horrid, but the bulbous monstrosity now laid dead, neck sliced open by his own dagger and no one was so seriously injured that Wynne could not heal. No, it was not lost to him that this thing had once been a person, a dwarf, a woman, but he was a Crow and it was easier not to let such things bother him.

His warden however was in a pitiful state, hunched over against the stone wall she tried desperately not to retch.

"Creators," She whimpered her breath short; she looked as if her heart would stop any moment. "Could have been. Me." Her battle was lost; her chest lurched and she spat out what little she'd managed to eat that morning.

"If Duncan hadn't- hadn't." She heaved again bile dropping from her lips, the burn of acid in her throat stinging her eyes. Neither Zevran nor Wynne could do nothing to help, and were forced to stand and watch as she coughed up more bile. Finally the dwarf Oghren tapped her on the shoulder, handing her a waterskin of whatever spirit he kept on hand.

"Here. Rinse your mouth. Don't drink it unless you wanna be knocked off your sodding rock." She took it contemplating his instructions, the alterative seemed tempting, but clearly decided his advice was sound swished the stuff in her mouth and spat. The taste was vile from the expression on her face, she'd never been one for the stronger drinks, but the effect was near instantly visible and she calmed enough to at least be able to walk away from the putrid site with his help. As much as any of them liked to turn back the Anvil of the Void still waited ahead.


	17. Chapter 17

The horrors that lurked in tunnels of the deep roads were finally behind them. Both his warden and the dwarf had taken an extra moment just outside the gates for very different reasons before they moved on back to Redcliffe once again. He had been able to joke with the dwarf about his phobia of falling up, but Zevran had hoped that his warden's condition would improve with the sun shining on her face. She however still looked drawn, like a light breeze would knock her to the ground any moment and she was uncharacteristically flighty and jumpy. The group stopped for lunch, more for her benefit than anything else. She showed no interest in any meal, however, and Zevran knew she'd eaten little to nothing since they returned from the Anvil.

At the worried glances from the rest of the group, Zevran decided to try something.

He called her name gently, trying not to startle her; it taking three calls for her to respond. "I have a question for you." He sat next to her, forcing her to take her forgotten meal onto her lap. "How well-versed are you in poetry? Antivan poetry specifically."

Living with the Dalish she obviously knew nothing of Antivan poetry _specifically_, but she shrugged her shoulders and replied, "I know good poem when I hear it."

"A-ha! Well trust me, then, you won't be hearing it now." He stole a piece off her plate popping the morsel into his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she unconsciously mimicked the action. "It was recited to me, as I recall, by a rather wealthy target of mine. Let's see... 'The symphoney I see in thee / it whispers songs to me. Songs of hot breath upon my neck / songs of soft grunts by my head / songs of hands on muscled back / songs of thee come to my bed.'"

"Oh dear..." She cringed. He took another piece from her, and she did the same.

"Oh, I know, I know. I couldn't believe that she thought this would actually convince me to spare her.  
I had sex with her anyway, but that goes without saying. She still had to die. The poem was amusing at the time, however, and thus I've always remembered it."

"You killed her anyway?" She asked having to swallow before she could actually speak, his subconscious prompting for her to eat no longer needed.

"Well, yes, but after we made love. What do you think I am some kind of monster?" She laughed, covering her mouth in that delicate way she had. "But it's not as if she didn't enjoy herself. Certainly there are much less pleasant ways to spend your last hours, no?"

He was insufferable, he knew, but at least it kept her smiling. "You are a saint amongst men, Zevran."

"You know, I kept telling the other Crows that, and yet they never felt the same way." She finally realized how hungry she was, and he gave her a moment to finish her meal before continuing. "Here I thought you might be cheered up by some naughty poetry. You simply look so... unhappy. Such an unflattering expression for such a lovely face."

"You think I'm lovely..?" She still turned a sweet shade of pink whenever he complimented her, even after their time together and he found it endearing.

"Who wouldn't? You're the kind of woman that stokes the lust in men and other women alike." He chuckled, watching the blush spread to her ears again. "Surely you know this and are playing with me."

She shifted uncomfortably, contemplating not his words, but the reason why he'd feel the need to cheer her up. "I had you worried, didn't I?"

"I wasn't going to say as much, but yes, a bit." Someone was staring at him from behind, he knew it was one of their ragtag group, but he couldn't be sure whom and he couldn't turn without giving himself away.

"I'm alright now. I think. Honest."

"This is good to hear, I meant what I said; you are too lovely for such an unhappy look."


	18. Chapter 18

"All right I have had enough watching you sodding frolic in the woods." Oghren growled, for once sober enough to realize something besides the drink in his hand. Less than a day away from Redcliffe, they only stopped for lack of light to see by.

"I wasn't frolicking in the woods." His warden replied stopping suddenly enough that the dog crashed into her thigh nearly knocking her over. If the game of tag with the Mabari was anything to go by, she was feeling much better. "We weren't frolicking in the woods, were we?" She asked the dog, who barked reassuringly.

Oghren stumbled trying to waddle over to her and point a finger, Ah; he wasn't as sober as Zevran originally thought. "You were sodding too!"

His warden touched her lips with two fingers, shifting her weight so that she stood on one leg. "In camp maybe, not in the woods."

"That makes a sodding difference?" The dwarf slurred, her balancing act seemed to make him sway on his feet. Oghren really needed to add to his list of swears.

"Yes, the trees get jealous." Oghren seemed dumbfounded by her words. She touched a finger to the dwarf's forehead and he fell backwards with a grunt and a snore. The mabari barked happily, obviously thinking that this new game was as funny as she did.

"I take it back," Alistair muttered to him from across the fire. "That, that right there passed out, _that's _desperate."


	19. Chapter 19

Neither of the Grey Wardens had much sleep as they trekked toward Denerim and the landsmeet, plagued by the nightmares given to them by the taint and the massive hoard of darkspawn that marched towards the surface. Alistair made to a brave attempt to not doze off sitting in front of the fire, though it was a one sided battle. His warden however, had given up the ruse and laying on a bedroll off to the side napping if not peacefully.

The night wore on like this and while Zevran felt for both his companions, Alistair had finally warmed up to the former Crow and they'd managed something akin to friendship, he was more worried about his warden. She'd only just gotten over the Deep Roads, and they had both learned from Alistair how Grey Wardens retired. She'd shaken her head, adamant that no one could make her return to that place, even if she was dragged. The two men believed her too.

Suddenly, both wardens sprang awake. "Did you see-" Alistair yelped, but in that moment a wave of Shrieks flooded the camp with their bone chilling cries and the clang of weapons was all that could be heard. It was a free for all, but just as quickly as they came the last Shriek lay dead at his warden's feet.

"You... Lethallan..." A voice called from behind her, she turned and paled.

"Creators have mercy, Tamlen," She breathed, but to Zevran the marred thing looked nothing like the elf that had confronted her during the trials of the gauntlet. "It can't be..."

"Don't... come near me! Stay away!" It cried its voice raw and tormented, running to the edge of camp. Of course, his warden wouldn't listen, and followed the decrepit creature. "Don't look... at me! I am... Sick..."

"I can help you Tamlen, please, let me try..." She pleaded weakly with him.

"No help... No... help for me." the ghoul groaned, his nails digging into the skin above his eyes, leaving long angry tracks on his already abused flesh as he dragged them down his face. "The song... In my head. It... calls to me. He sings to me! I can't stop it! Don't want... to hurt you, Lethallan. Please... stop me..." He was trying to hold himself back, Zevran realized, the call compelled him to kill her, but she was oblivious to this, his warden always too kind.

"I can't... I could never... Not you..."

"I must... give you no... choice." The ghoul was resigned to his fate, its hands dropping to his sides. "Always... Loved you... I'm so sorry..."

Then the ghoul attacked her, but she couldn't even think of fighting back, her daggers slipped from her grip. She was begging him to stop, still begging to let him help her as its nails tore at her arms. Alistair slammed him back with his shield, and she screamed at him to stop. Had Zevran not pulled her back, she would've likely thrown herself in front of the below that took the ghoul's life. His warden was in utter anguish as she watched the thing that once had been an elf, once been her friend, fall and beat her heartache against his chest.

"Who... was that?" Alistair dared to ask to ask. She whimpered the name they'd heard several times and Alistair's guilt for asking was plain to see. He placed a hand on her back, trying to comfort her if even a little bit. "It's better this way, this was a mercy."

"They told me he was dead, Duncan and Marathari. They were right. That wasn't Tamlen, not anymore." She sniffed letting Zevran guide her away from the remains and to the relative comfort of the camp fire. Behind him, Alistair moved the ghoul's body from the camp, least it attracted others. "I guess I just needed to see for myself."

"He said he loved you." And she loved him too, but the words were strangely heavy on his tongue and he couldn't seem to speak them aloud.

"We were to be bonded in the spring. He hadn't asked me yet, it was going to be a surprise, but I already knew. He was horrible at keeping secrets..." Her eyes, rimmed with unfallen tears, were compelled to drift towards the spot where the form of what had once been her lover fell, as much as she didn't want to see.

"I wasn't even supposed to be there. I was _supposed to_ be helping Master Ilen." She breathed a bitter laugh. "We found a group of humans that had traveled too close to our camp and chased them off. Before they left they spoke about some ruins nearby. Tamlen was so interested by this, but I couldn't understand why. I'd like to think it was an excuse to spend more time with me away from camp..." She let out a long almost wistful sigh.

It was almost like a punch in the gut for Zevran, though he was sure she was thinking something far more innocent then what his mind had jumped to. "My dear, if you're not ready..."

She shook her head, and plowed on, determined to finally let it go. "The ruins were full of artifacts both elven and human alike. We should have turned around, but by then I was curious too. In the center of the ruins we found a mirror, Tamlen said he could see an underground city within it. He was so fascinated with it he reached out to touch it. There was a flash of light and I woke up back at camp. I was sick with the taint for days; they said... the Grey Warden Duncan had saved me. We tried to find Tamlen, I brought Merrill and Fenarel, Tamlen's brother, to the ruins but there was no sign of him.

"Keeper said I had to leave with Duncan, or I would die. I thought she was angry at me... I thought I was being exiled." She leaned against his shoulder, taking his hand and locking her fingers in-between his. "It took the deep roads for me to see the truth. If Duncan hadn't been there, I..." She swallowed hard, and Zevran squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I... am very lucky." He chuckled at her mimicked words, and they sat together until she dozed off, her fingers still laced with his.


	20. Chapter 20

"I was just thinking... about what happened." Leliana began a few nights after the attack on the camp. Zevran watched quietly, grateful to the Orlesian bard. His warden had not been down, per say, just a bit subdued. There was no flocking in the camp, much to the dog's displeasure. "And I... I'm reminded of a song sung to me many years ago. It was when my mother died, and this wise elven woman comforted me and told me we shouldn't fear death, or hate it. Death is just another beginning. One day we must all shed our earthly bodies to allow our spirits to fly free."

"I think I know what song you mean," She replied with a faint smile, normally she'd be over joyed by the fact that a human knew and took pleasure in the songs of the Dalish. It showed just how much the recent events had been eating at her.

"Sing with me?" Leliana asked, picking up her lute and plucking a few notes. Together their voices rose and fell with the song of Uthenera. It was no doubt that Leliana was the better, having years of practice and training with her voice, but his warden's voice was just as lovely. Everyone, besides Morrigan, stopped to listen and even Sten seemed to appreciate the recital. Zevran himself could only make out the smallest of words. The last of the notes fade away and his warden placed a hand on her cheek in thought.

"Do you know any others? I could teach you a few of the happier ones, if you'd like." To his warden's delight, and this time she did show it, Leliana agreed and their shared different songs for most of the night. Most of the time the words and meaning of the Dalish songs had been lost to time, but neither woman seemed to mind. Leliana loved any new songs and his warden was only happy to share her culture with someone willing to listen.

He lay next to her late that night, having made her sing in his own way, the sound of her voice playing in his head.


	21. Chapter 21

Denerim, while not as hard on her as the Deep Roads, was still a tax on his warden's spirit. It wasn't the city itself, she'd gotten used to most of it after so much time in Redcliffe, it was the people. One boy threw a rock at her, calling her something better off not repeated and running off before Alistair could catch him, and Zevran nearly slit another man's neck when he knocked her aside while browsing a merchant's stall. At least the unsavory treatment stopped rather quickly after she assisted Sergeant Kylon, he having instructed his guards to imprison anyone who barely looked at her funny in gratitude.

No, the worst of it was she was forced to sleep on those plush beds the nobility was fond of. "Like trying to sleep on a cloud." She groaned rubbing her eyes and trying to stifle a yawn. "The moment I begin to drift though the Veil, I feel like I'll fall through to the Deep Roads."

She was still yawning as they made their way through the city. The back alley was unusually quiet, even after the group had cleared out the gangs requested on the chanter's board. When they reached the stairs to exit the alley, Zevran realized why.

"And so here is the mighty Grey Warden at long last. The Crows send their greetings, once again." Taliesen stood at the top of the steps, a mock of a bow and a nod of his head summoning a legion of crows that blocked their exit. She looked afraid, it was a fact of her wide eyes, but he knew her mind was working though possibilities and she was, in truth, not worried at all.

"So they sent you, Taliesen? Or did you volunteer for the job?" He asked his onetime ally, his warden wasn't paying attention to what they said; her eyes flicked to the members of the Crows that surrounded them.

"I volunteered, of course. When I heard that the great Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself." He was staring at his warden now, not in the flirtatious way Zevran had, no Taliesen planned to keep her alive if he could, but only for a little while.

"Is that so? Well here I am, in the flesh." Zevran resisted the urge to stand in front of his warden, to block that revolting leer and made his own mock bow that drew Taliesen's eyes away.

"You can return with me, Zevran. I know why you did this, and I don't blame you. It's not too late. Come back and we'll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake." Taliesen went on. This however, also caught his warden's attention. Her gaze turned to him and it was worse than her normal kicked puppy look.

"I'd... need to be dead, of course." She replied, her lip quivering slightly.

"And I'm not about to let that happen." Go back to the crows? After all she'd done for him, all they'd shared together? The answer was simple; Zevran didn't even need to take the time to ponder it, or the little voice that kept adding to the reasons to stand by her. He turned back to Taliesen, drawing his blades. "I'm sorry, my old friend. But the answer is no. I'm not coming back... and you should have stayed in Antiva."

The Crows gathered were no match for the Grey Wardens and their friends. Taliesen made the mistake of trying to go after his warden, letting her delicate and frail demeanor trick him into thinking she was weak. The look of surprise that he'd been outdone by her was suck on his face even after death.

"And there it is. Taliesen is dead, and I am free of the Crows." He nudged the husk that once had been a friend and more too him, but no need to tell her that. "They will assume that I am dead along with Taliesen. So long as I do not make my presence known to them, they will not seek me out."

"That's a good thing, right?" She asked curiously, wiping the blood off her dagger on a moderately clean piece of clothing on another assassin. He was pretty sure she picked the man's pockets too. Ah, he'd taught her well.

"A very good thing. It is, in fact, what I had hoped for ever since you decided not to kill me." He replied, "I suppose it would be possible for me to leave, now, if I wished. I could go far away, somewhere where the Crows would never find me." Ah, he'd forgotten again how seriously she always took his comments on leaving. She didn't look at him this time, busying herself with another corpse. "I think, however, that I could also stay here. I made an oath to help you, after all. And saving the world seems a worthy task to see through to the end, yes?"

"If you want to go, you should go." She whispered softly, still refusing to look at him, but he could she her hands shaking.

He shook his head, walking around so he was standing in front of his warden. She wouldn't look up, so he took her hands and pulled her to her feet. "But that is what I am asking you. Do you want me to go? Do you need me here?"

"Of course I want you to stay." She answered quickly begging him with her eyes to do just that, then realizing she might be persuading him against his will, she dropped her gaze and added; "I... I want you to do what's best for you."

"Then stay I shall." He pulled her close, tilting her chin up with one hand and laid a gentle kiss on her lips. "I'm with you until the end... provided you do not tire of me first. Or I die. Or you die. But there you go." He stuttered lamely, realizing both Wynne and Alistair had been watching the exchange the entire time. The Mage had a half annoyed look on her face, and Alistair was grinning like a cat.

Ah well, the pink flush on her face was worth it.


	22. Chapter 22

It was late at night, and he found his warden on the roof of the Arl's Estate staring up at the stars with her arms behind her head. Below them few lanterns lit the streets of Denerim, but it didn't dim the view above and he could see the reflection of consultations in her eyes.

"What are you doing up here?" Zevran asked as he joined her.

"I've found I can little stand stone walls anymore, even those of human hands." She mumbled with a sad smile and a sigh. "I… I'm just… thinking..."

"About?" He knew she was worried about the Landsmeet; it was what had brought her up here in the first place, but that had been hours ago. Eamon had been attempting to verse her in the finer points of human politics, but it was a losing battle for the Dalish elf and she finally became so frustrated that she stormed out of estate. Having watched the fiasco himself, Zevran injected himself into the discussion with the Arl. Knowing what her ability with words, he convinced Eamon that she would be more then capable if only he'd give her simpler instructions. The details had been worked out, and now all they needed was a calmer warden to introduce them too.

"... Your last mission. But..." The words caught him off guard and found himself staring at his hands.

"Yes, I suppose it is time. You have been a good friend to me, after all. There is no reason to be silent." She sat up and shifted closer, silently offering her comfort if he need it. "There is a reason I accepted this mission in Ferelden, far away from home, and it had nothing to do with any thought that I might leave the Crows. Meeting you, after all, was quite an accident. My last mission before this one... did not end well."

He paused, maybe a little too long. She bit her lip and asked. "What happened?"

"You must realize that until that day I was cocky and arrogant. I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and I bragged of my conquests often... both as an assassin and lover."

"You were _more_ cocky and arrogant?" The doubtful look on her face made them both chuckle lightly.

"Indeed. I was often told I was insufferable... right before I ended up in bed with someone. Such is how it was." He shrugged his shoulders, finding he was no longer worried how she'd take to his extensive list of bed partners; strangely comfortable with the knowledge that she didn't mind. "One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting. My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise: A wealthy merchant with many guards and completely silent. Taliesen agreed to be part of my team, as well as an elven lass named Rinna. She was... a marvel. Though, smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired."

"You loved her..?" There was a hesitation in her voice that he'd not heard before and he found it ironic how she could say he had loved someone, when he had not been able to say that she had loved Tamlen.

"Rinna was... special. I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me. It frightened me." Special was not the word, but the truth of it frightened him even now and even though his warden had said it for him, he could not bring his lips to form the word himself. "When Taliesen revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant, told him of our plan, I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price and allowed Taliesen to kill her. Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me that she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in her face and said that even if it were true, I didn't care."

"...But that wasn't true."

"I _convinced _myself it was." At some point his arm had found its way around her waist, at another he'd pulled her close so that she leaned against him. "Taliesen... cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me. I _spat_ on her for betraying the Crows." He held her tighter, pulling her completely into his lap so that he could hug her and smell the petrichor in her hair. "When Taliesen and I finally assassinated the merchant we found the true source of his information. Rinna had not betrayed us after all."

"I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, what did she have to be sorry for? Her understanding however, was just as comforting as her back against his chest. "I... wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesen convinced me not to. He said it would be a foolish waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt. We needn't have bothered. The Crows knew what we had done. The master who disliked me told me so to my face. He said the Crows knew... and they didn't care. And one day my turn would come."

"I don't know what to say." They were silent for a long while after that; Zevran needed a moment after letting all that off his chest.

"You once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die. What better way than to throw myself at one of the fabled Grey Wardens?" He whispered resting his chin on top of her head. "And then... this happened. And here I am."

"That is awful, Zevran… I…" Her voice wavered like she was about to cry for him, and he hugged her tightly, cutting off his words. Had he not taken that job, he would not be here, she would have not had the opportunity to give him a second chance and he would not be here to hold her like this. In the end, as much as the events had hurt him they'd also brought him to Ferelden and to her.

"It... feels good to speak of it to someone. I swore I never would. Whatever it is I sought by leaving Antiva, I think I had found it. I own you a great deal."

"You don't owe me anything, Zevran." She replied so sweetly; he could only imagine the warm smile she'd have if he could see her face. "I'm happy to have you with me."

They sat quiet in each other's arms, Zevran remembered that he was supposed to being her back to Eamon, but decided that it was late anyway and the Arl could wait till morning. "Here... it seems an appropriate moment to give you this."

"You don't need to give me anything." She responded as he fished the object out of his pocket.

"I may not need to, but I want to." He gently placed the earring in her delicate hands for her to inspect. "I acquired it on my very first job for the Crows. A Rivaini merchant prince and he was wearing a single, jeweled earring when I killed him. In fact, that's about all he was wearing. I thought it was beautiful and took it to make the occasion. I've kept it since... and I'd like you to have it."

"_Ma serannas_, Zevran. It's beautiful!" She exclaimed, holding it up to the moonlight so the stars reflected off its golden surface.

"Don't get the wrong idea about it. You killed Taliesen. As far as the Crows will be concerned, I died with him. That means I'm free, at least for now. Feel free to sell it, or wear it... or whatever you'd like. It's really the least I could give you in return."

She didn't seem to hear much of what he'd just said and shifted out of his arms to touch the edge of her ear. He'd not noticed that her ears where pierced, but then jewelry didn't respond well to battles of life and death. From his count she had four to choose from, and she finally decided on a spot somewhere in the middle. "_Ma __serannas_, really, thank you. I appreciate it."

"I have no better way to say it." Seeing her with his ring in her ear, his chest ached in a way he hadn't felt before; Rinna had not made him feel this way and he didn't know what to make of it. He ignored it in favor of his warden's happiness. "Thank you."


	23. Chapter 23

The days rolled by in a whirlwind. He'd come to her rescue when she alone was captured and taken to Fort Drakon while attempting to save the queen from Howe, having begged him to take Anora to safety and leave her to her captors. The plans for the Landmeet claimed all her patience, and at Eamon's request she convinced Alistair and the queen to marry. Zevran could tell it had been the hardest thing she'd ever done, and felt like she'd betrayed her fellow warden and good friend.

Worst of all was what Zevran himself was doing to her.

At first it seemed like he was just as busy as she was, at what he never gave her the opportunity to ask, but she finally manage to catch him. She'd asked him to her room. She'd asked. Yes, they'd spent many nights together, but she'd never out right asked him to join her.

And he'd denied her.

He could tell by the way she pulled gently on the earring he'd given her that she felt she was at fault in some way. She was trying to keep the hurt look of her face, and mumbled her acceptance before walking away. Zevran wanted to go after her, but he was rooted to the floor. He felt the fool for making her feel this way, and wasn't sure why he was so confused in the first place.

Some days later, he wandered the halls of the estate trying to avoid everyone; they all knew something was wrong with the two of them, but if he couldn't talk to her how could he talk to any of them. It was still early and the estate was just beginning to hum with life. He found himself in the Arl's library. Of course, his warden would be here; she had an affinity for books. Histories, of course; as a Dalish the need to learn the past was engraved in her bones. There was piles of thick books stacked five and more high, it seemed she'd given up on sleep altogether without him to keep her company and resorted to nodding off between pages. He tried to leave without her noticed, but she caught him as only a rogue could.

"Can we talk..?" She whispered, rubbing her eyes. A servant had been kind enough to cover her with a blanket sometime in the night. He nodded slowly, knowing he couldn't keep doing this to her. "You... seem different now."

"Hmm. I thought that this might be it." He sighed, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace, staring at the dead embers, anything but the sad expression she wore. "Are you certain you wish to talk about this? I really do not know what to say."

"If you don't want to talk, that's fine." The pain in her voice sent a spike to his chest and he had to take her arm to keep her from getting up and walking away.

"I... no, this... I am acting like a child, I realize. I apologize. Let me try to explain." He fumbled, a master of charm he might be, but this was not something he knew how to express. He had to give her something, however, she'd been nothing but kind, nothing but wonderful to him and he... "An assassin... must learn to forget about sentiment. It is dangerous. You take your pleasures where you can, when life is good. To expect anything more would be reckless. I thought it was the same between us. Something to enjoy, a pleasant diversion and little more. And yet..."

He paused, he couldn't say the words. She swallowed and said them for him; "Are you... In love with me?"

"I do not know. Wow would you know such a thing?" He asked her honestly; maybe she'd have the answer to this. He hoped, if only so that she would stop being hurt by his sudden callousness. "I grew up amongst those who sold the illusion of love, and then I was trained to make my heart cold in favor of the kill. Everything I have been taught says what I feel is wrong. Yet I cannot help it. Since we began this, I have been nothing but confused. Do you understand me at all?"

"I do..." She replied softly. How she found any meaning in his slur of words he could not understand, but relief flooded him all the same. "I feel the same way about you."

It was only when she replied that the confusion and tension dissipated completely. His warden, so kind and caring, had she known all along how she felt? Knowing her, yes, she probably did, but she'd abided by the rules he'd put into place without a word and would have accepted the end without complaint, had it come. His own words haunted him, but had either of them brought up the topic of… a serious relationship, no he would have balked and ran. He'd been afraid, again, he realized, that she'd break it off with him, stomp his heart into the ground; Maker knew he deserved it after what he'd done.

Whether she knew it or not, the little minx had snuck her way into his heart and now he found he couldn't do without her.

"All this time I never thought you might feel the same, how novel... I am sorry for acting so strangely. I think I will be better, now. Much better." When she smiled he had to hold her. They would have stayed there all day, or found a room, but a servant intruded on their moment, stating that the Arl requested her opinion on another matter. Her gaze was uncertain, but he promised they'd... _talk _again later that night and she left him with little fuss.

Talk they did, the entire estate heard them talking, if Zevran had any say about it.


	24. Chapter 24

"After all that I will not be going with you?" Morrigan complained approaching his warden off to the side. The destruction of the city was near complete and Zevran wondered idly if Denerim could ever be rebuilt. His warden replied something to the witch, but he didn't pay their conversation much mind.

"No more delicate then your own." The strange phrase from Morrigan caught his attention and he turned just in time to see his warden pale, a hand on her abdomen.

"Morrigan, what is this about?" He asked intruding on the conversation. A little too forcefully, maybe, but he was no fool and there were few reasons why a woman would make such an action.

"I have saved the life of your lover, do not you doubt." She replied hotly and proceeded to speak as if he wasn't there. "Grey Wardens do not have children often; I had to be sure the effects of the spell would function properly before the final night. Do not worry; your son is old enough to not attract the Archdemon's spirit. Though, I had my doubts it would be so when Zevran had his little crisis."

"Zevran," She spoke quietly, afraid of what he might say. A few months ago, Zevran would have paled and bolted at such news, but he was not the man he was then. He hushed her gently touching his forehead to hers. They'd not talked about this; more because so because of the impending fight with the Archdemon and a distinct chance that a future would not be there to plan for than any other reason. No, Zevran was not the same man he was, but that did not mean he wasn't sweeting over the idea. Still, he made a promise to her; he would remain until she tired of him, not the other way around.

"I would willingly storm the gates of the black city itself as long as you were by my side." He promised her again, Morrigan making a rude comment and walking off. "Raising a child with you does not seem like such a difficult task in comparison."

"You'll come with me, won't you? To fight the Archdemon?"

"As it should be, _mi amor_."

Together with Alistair and Wynne they fought their way through the ruined city, towards Fort Drakon. To the two remaining Grey Wardens' horror they watched Riordan fall to his death from the wing of the corrupted Old God, the dragon itself landing on top of the tower. Unfortunately. With the help of the gathered army they reach the creature responsible for the blight.

Dwarves, elves and men all fought valiantly against the unending tides of darkspawn that flooded the rooftop and with a last grunting roar of rage the Archdemon was at last nearing its end. His warden dropped her daggers racing forward to grab a long sword and slice the dragon's neck open from jaw to breastbone. It refused to die, even as its head fell weakly from the wicked cut! His warden flipped her grip on the sword so that she was holding it downwards and with both hands plunged the blade into the Archdemon's skull.

There was a bright light.

Zevran could see his warden struggle to let go of the blade, the light seemingly holding her in place. He tried to reach her managing only a few steps before a shockwave knocked everyone on the tower to the ground.

He must have been out for a minute or two, when he rose there were no darkspawn about and he could hear a cheer coming from the city below.

But where was his warden?

Alistair was beginning to stir nearby and he finally spotted Wynne by the dead carcass of the Archdemon. Worry flooded his mind as he crossed the distance and saw his warden lying limp as Wynne used her magic on her.

"She is alright Zevran." The mage stated simply, but he had to see for himself and pulled her to his chest. She breathed, slow and evenly but did not wake.

Another concern raced to his mind and his gaze fell on Wynne. Knowing how much the elder mage disliked him this news may not sit well with her, but she was the only one available to ask. "Morrigan said she was with child… Can you… would you?"

Thankfully the mage nodded, and he vowed to be a bit kinder with any jokes at her expense from then on.

"I was wrong. There is something special between the two of you." Wynne said suddenly beside him as she cast her magic on his warden once again. "You are different around her, tender, do not try to deny it Zevran, this old woman knows. …The child is fine as well."

Zevran breathed a sigh of relief and was even more grateful when his warden reached up a delicate hand to touch his face.

* * *

_I know, I know; it's tired and done. I didn't know this until after I wrote this, however, but it _needed_ to remain. There is a little voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like Morrigan that keeps saying, "Why in the world would I cast a spell on _myself_ without knowing what the outcome might be?" So yes, she used the Warden as a guinea pig. _

_At least she wasn't doing out of _kindness_ or anything._


	25. Chapter 25

With a resounding cheer Alistair and Anora are made king and queen of Ferelden. Zevran figured it was payback for making Alistair marry when he called her up in front of the gathered party goers and named her _The Hero of Ferelden_. Not undeserving, sure, but his warden would have been much with a small thank you and not to have everyone's eyes on her.

The servants had done up her hair in twists and decorated it with flowers, it hung long and almost hiding her pointed ears, but there was nothing that could cover the proud mark of the Dalish on her forehead. The amethyst color of her dress must have been a lone from Anora, the color purple was reserved for the extremely wealthy, and royalty, at least in Antiva, and made her green eyes shine. In a word, she was beautiful and everyone gathered knew, but only Zevran knew she belonged to him and him alone.

"Ask for any boon," Alistair went on, "and if it's in my power I will grant it."

Her eyes shifted as she thought, it was no light decision, but she hadn't the time to ponder all the possibilities. "The Dalish," she said finally, making the only selfish choice she probably ever made, and yet still so kind. "I ask that you grant lands to the Dalish, Your majesty."

And how could Alistair deny her after all he'd learned from her about the elves? The land was granted and a hope that humans and elves could work together was promised by the new king. She was left to mingle with the crowed; an elder female elf he'd not met, but clearly Dalish by her markings, quickly pulling his warden to the side to talk. The way they smiled however, so he was not worried, they obviously knew one another.

His warden returned quickly enough, speaking to each of them in turn. There was sadness to her face, though; as she knew that this adventure was drawing to its last moments and her friends would soon go their separate ways.

"I will be relieved when all this pomp and ceremony is done." He sighed when she approached. "Such events are perfect opportunities for assassins after all; I can't help but to expect the Crows to appear at any moment. A welcome break, mind you."

They laughed at his little joke, it seemed neither of them where all that fond of parties. "You don't have to stay." She replied and he scoffed.

"And leave you to face the unwashed masses alone? Perish the thought. Although, it does occur to me that staying on one place will only invite the crows to find me that much quicker. While fun, that might get… complicated. Do you have any plans, my dear?"

She frowned at the question, having never given it much thought. Maybe she hoped by not thinking about it, things would go on as they had, she'd have been happy for it, Zevran knew. "I'm not sure… " She couldn't return to her clan, that much was certain; it wouldn't be the same for her even if she knew where to find them. That left few options that didn't involve traveling alone, which she'd never willingly do. "…Maybe the Grey Wardens?"

He smirked at this, predicting this response from her, if she could not return to her clan, and her small group broke apart, a surrogate would be her next choice. "And would you be in favor of me remaining with you? Maybe the Wardens would appreciate and assassin on retainer, or I could be a mascot. I'd make an excellent mascot." He asked with a chuckle, his tone thick and implying as he pulled her close, resting the palm of his hand on her still flat abdomen. "I've grown fond of you, you see. Sad, but true."

From somewhere in the crowed Wynne cleared her throat rather pointedly. Zevran rolled his eyes, ruin his fun, but let his warden go.

"I'd like you to stay. With me." His warden responded a faint flush to her cheeks.

"A request I'd be hard pressed to refuse. So I won't. Let the Crows come." He laughed. "Now, go on and get paraded about. It's fun to watch. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on you and make sure no one gets a clear shot. Not without paying me a _great deal_ of coin anyhow."

"Zevran!" She laughed. He was insufferable, yes, but that was why she loved him.

* * *

_That's all! I hope you enjoyed!  
_

_If you haven't already, might I suggest_ Heroes are Made_? It is a DA:O novelization that will expand on what I've set up here, from beginning to end through awakening and on to post DA2 if I have anything to say about it. __There is entirely too little Zevran/Mahariel fanfiction and I endeavor to fix this! Worst of all is _I have all these great ideas for AFTER the games, and I really cant wait to share them with you all! I hope you'll join me.  



End file.
